The Harkness Files
by Overseerneversleeps
Summary: Jack Harkness embarks on a galaxy spanning journey to find the culprit in the break-in at the Black Archive. The information he finds on this deadly adventure may illuminate an old enemy of The Doctor, if it doesn't kill him first. An offshoot of my "Twelfth Hour" series, taking place simultaneously with A Night in Killcrest Manor. Co-Written by partner in time crime BannerFanner.
1. Into Shadows

_(Welcome Outlaw Gentleman and Shady Ladies to The Harkness Files. This story takes place during the same time as my other tale, A Night In Killcrest Manor. This is the journey of Jack Harkness, as he investigates the break in at the Black Archive. As a result, it is highly recommended that you read the beginning of that story. This spin off is co-written by my lovely friend BannerFanner. Chapters will be short but hopefully sweet. As always, leave a review if you liked it. Most importantly, enjoy)_

To Jack Harkness, Vortex Manipulator travel always felt like being pulled in every direction at once. One felt almost liquid as everything spun around them. Eras, worlds, universes and all sped by in the blink of an eye that felt like an eternity. It was like the snap of a finger, in the time of which, he lived a million life times.

He had always done his best thinking in transit like that. All that time, all that distorted space, gave a man the silence to really concentrate on the tough questions.

Right now, he had a lot of those. Kate Stewart had asked his help on a vital mission. There had been a violent break in at the Black Archive, and a vortex manipulator had been stolen. Only one calling card was left behind, with a name upon it: The Great Intelligence Institute.

Kate had sent him to find The Doctor, and he would. He had other business however. A wise man once told him to know his enemy as well as his friend. If he was to help The Doctor with this new threat, then he was going to need information. Answer to a question. That question? Who, or what is The Great Intelligence Institute. What was its plan, and why did it need a vortex manipulator?

He had his own suspicions. A Time Lord perhaps? It would not surprise him. The Doctor claimed to be the last Time Lord, though he was not. There were others, and they were not as benevolent as the renegade saviour. The Master was one, a madman (or woman if the latest rumours were true) bent on control, destruction and everything in between. The Valeyard was another, supposedly The Doctor's final, evil, regeneration. Jack however, believed that he was a fake, just another Time Lord gone insane with power. If those could exist, others could have escaped the slaughter of The Time War. Torchwood tried to track many of them, but it was nearly impossible.

Other than that, other threats just as powerful existed. Most were unknown but just as dangerous as a Time Lord. Regardless of what or who had done this, Jack had to find them and what they were up to. He never went into a fight blind. Well...there was that one time in Tijuana but that was a bit different. He could only think of one place to start.

When crimes were committed in the universe, one organization wanted to know about it, be a part of the investigation, and most importantly, become so mired in paper work and bureaucracy that they never got around to solving it; the Shadow Proclamation. That was his destination, and with a zap he landed.

It took a moment for his head to stop spinning, and once it had Jack strode confidently out of the broom closet which he had accidentally landed in. Outside the door, a trio of Judoon had their guns trained on him, their ugly rhino faces contorted into sneers.

"Whoa there, boys," said Jack, holding up his hands. "I come in peace. I need to talk to-"

"Me, I presume." From behind a wall, the Shadow Architect appeared. She slinked forth, her red eyes sharp and locked on him, neither angry nor afraid, but perhaps a little...uneasy - though it never reached the rest of her milk-white face.

"You don't presume anything. You know what I'm here for." Jack was well aware of her information-gathering abilities.

"I'm afraid I do." The Shadow Architect now crossed through the trio of Judoon. They lowered their weapons ever so slightly. "A great crime has been committed; the theft of a vortex manipulator. In the wrong hands...well, you know the rest. We have a suspect, a Time Lord known as the Corsair. Fitting, I should think. We believe she would have both the means and inclination to steal this vortex manipulator, as it is not known whether she still has possession of a TARDIS."

"Where can I find her?" he did not exactly say it, but his intentions were clear.

"Well, if you intend to go after her yourself, then there's not a lot we can do for you," said the Shadow Architect, smugness threatening to push through her nonchalant demeanour.

"I understand The Proclamation's hesitation at helping 'private investigators" Jack quoted with his fingers.

"It is prohibited under Code five-nine-two-six-three," the burly Judoon interrupted authoritatively.

"Thankyou," Jack whispered with narrowed eyes, "however, you and I have been in business for a long time. I would think certain allowances could be made."

"Oh it is not that, Captain," she smirked disingenuously, "we have sent five of our most skilled agents after her. None have returned in one piece. For you to peruse the Corsair... it is suicide." He could see her red eyes dilate. She was actually rattled. He had never seen that before.

She also knew he wouldn't be dissuaded.

"But..." Her eyes narrowed, and she looked to the ceiling, where the infinite darkness of space could be seen through the glass.

"What?" asked Jack. And that's when it started, the feeling of butterflies thrashing about in his stomach, the goosebumps shooting up on his arms and legs, his hairs standing erect. The Shadow Architect was saying something, but he couldn't hear a word over the rush of blood in his ears. The world went blurry, then white, before finally disappearing altogether. Jack was gone.

The Shadow Architect cursed in some ancient language and stormed away from the now empty hall. A servant girl trotted up to her.

"Someone took him," said the Shadow Architect. "I can't believe it. On top of stealing a vortex manipulator and interrupting my lunch, someone's just kidnapped Captain Jack Harkness."

* * *

The Dalek capital ship was buzzing with dark activity. The bridge control room was bathed in red lights as the troops trundled around. All of them were shaped like enormous metal salt shakers. Their round heads swivelled, their singular, cycolptic eye stalks resting on a man, their leader.

Their built in guns twitched nervously. Despite that all of their fear had been removed, the Daleks still knew that to disappoint Davros was to die.

The Dalek all-father looked nearly human at first glance, although his lower body had long ago been replaced by the same rolling monstrosity that all his people inhabited. His upper body was old and haggard, a mass of metal and wires jutting from his head and neck, keeping him alive. His eyes were melted shut; a glowing, blue, third eye had been implanted instead.

He rolled over to one of the screens, staring up at it. He pointed his single, iron hand at the screen.

"Have we acquired the target?" his gargled, metallic voice echoed.

"Jack Harkness has been successfully abducted," one of his crew's shrill, computerised tone replied.

"Excellent," Davros whispered, "have him sent to the brig until I am ready for him."

"What of the other prisoners being transported to Skaro for mutation?" a different, yet identical Dalek questioned.

"We have who we need. Exterminate them," Davros replied coldly. He flipped a switch on his console, syncing to the audio of the cells. Glorious screams echoed through the speakers, filling the command center. He shut his eye in the rapturous beauty of their deaths.

"And the Shadow Proclamation?"

"The Judoon are of no consequence. Destroy any ships foolish enough to follow." Davros watched as one of the screens changed to the face of his old enemy, one of many, Jack Harkness. "Let us find out what you and the Doctor have done to my children," he spat, his fist smacking the console. No one dared to tamper with his Daleks and live to tell about it. Not even the Doctor.


	2. Better and Better

( _Author's Note:_ _The song in this chapter is "Like A Stone" by Audioslave. Enjoy the next part, its all down hill from here )_

As soon as his feet touched the cold, metal floor, Jack knew he was in serious trouble. The stark surrounding glowed with pale yellow lights, and the metal walls were decorated with round balls jutting out every few feet. Dalek architecture. Perfect. Today was just getting better.

The dark hall ahead was lit with bright blue lights, and the Daleks rolled into view, their eye stalks trained on him. Their guns wiggled, pointing at his head and chest, not that it truly mattered where they hit. Dalek guns killed no matter what.

Except for him, maybe. Jack wasn't quite the normal human, and he used that to his advantage. He was proven death-proof; he normally just died for a few moments and woke back up. Sure it hurt but...beyond that it was just something that slowed him down more than anything.

He still didn't like taking his chances, however. He never knew; maybe there was something capable of killing him and he didn't know it. Maybe he just needed to die in the right way. Or perhaps it was a limited number. Not to mention that it all felt like having a stroke, heart-attack, and an aneurism at the same time. Not a lot of fun. So, despite his dislike for surrender, he put his hands in the air.

The four Daleks at his front rolled to him, while two more came from behind. They were really rolling out the welcome wagon.

"You know, if you guys wanted to talk, you could have just called me. I mean, kidnapping is a bit too strong. Gentle touch is the way into this guy's heart," he smiled widely. Daleks hated smiles. Well, they hated everything but especially that.

"Silence!" one of them screeched. "You are Jack Harkness."

"Last time I checked." He shrugged.

"You are a known associate of the Doctor!"

"I haven't seen him in a few years, boys. You know how he rolls – comes in, blows up your Crucible, doesn't even leave his number on the dresser."

"Davros requests your audience," a different, deeper-voiced Dalek announced. "He will not be denied."

"Davros?" Jack snorted. "Didn't we blow him up already? I could'a sworn I watched him go up in a ball of fire." He didn't know how the creator of the Daleks kept coming back, but it was annoying as all hell. Why couldn't any of the Doctor's enemies just stay dead?

"Davros is alive! Davros is superior!" one screamed

"Davros is supreme. Hail Davros, the Great Exterminator!" another called.

"Right – blah blah my dad's best, gotcha. Well let's go. Might as well get it over with."

Jack was promptly lead through the hallway and into a cold, den-like room with screens peppered along the walls and great wires hanging from the ceiling.

Davros stood...or, rather, sat...before them, flanked by two silver Daleks who somehow seemed to be glaring at Jack, in spite of their lack of features.

"Boys," said Jack in greeting, tipping an invisible hat. "Davros. Nice to see you looking so lively. In fact, you're looking so good that I almost forgive this rude intervention of yours. I was rather busy, you know."

Davros snarled. "Do not play games with me, Harkness. You're here because of the Doctor."

"Aren't I always?"One of the Daleks behind him suddenly rammed its gun into his back, causing him to yelp and stumble forward in spite of himself. "Tetchy," said Jack, rubbing his spine - where there would soon surely be a very large bruise. He returned his gaze to Davros, his smirk souring a little. "So, what has the old Doc' done this time, eh?"

"My Daleks are being corrupted! They are turning from their purpose and going rogue," growled Davros.

"Heretics!" cried the gaggle of Daleks around them.

"What's the matter? They don't think daddy loves them anymore?" asked Jack, mock sympathy oozing from his lips. Then, in a flash, he was dead. After a moment or two, and several vibrations of crippling pain running through his body, Jack sat up again, sucking in a sharp breath, all traces of joviality gone. Jack got shakily to his feet and brushed himself down.

"Okay, I get it. No more jokes. Tell me about these...rogues, then."

"Heretics!" screeched the Dalek to Davros' left. Then, they all started in.

"Traitors!"

"Scum!"

"Scum!"

"Sub-Dalek!"

"HERETICS!" They all screemed in unison.

"Enough!" snapped Davros. His glowing eye never left Jack.

"The Doctor is the cause of this. He must be. Who else could do such a thing?"

"I don't know," said Jack. "I don't know if anyone else could do it, but what I do know is that it can't be the Doctor. Don't you think if he could have turned daddy's little monsters away from you then he would have by now?"

"Or else he's found something new!" Davros' metal hand shot out, pointing accusingly at Jack.

"Me?!"

"You know! And because we cannot kill you, you will be kept prisoner until such time as you reveal the Doctor's secrets! Let's see how long it takes for you to release the frivolity of your loyalties to the Time Lord. Take him away!" In another flash, Jack was dead again.

When he woke up, he had been stripped and shoved into shapeless grey clothes. The room was the size of a small shower, and there were no windows, no vents...no air. He had only just enough room to sit, but not quite enough to stand fully erect. Jack pounded on the wall, but it didn't budge. He slammed himself against it.

"DAVROS!" he screamed. He looked down at his wrist. "Damn it!" He yelled. The Vortex manipulator was gone. The Daleks couldn't have that. They already possessed Time Corridor technology. They didn't need more. He had to get out of here.

The ceiling suddenly chuffed open. Glaring down at him were a pair of ape like men in dirty rags, Ogrons. They picked up a bucket and dumped it's slimy, chunky contents down on him. Food, he guessed. He had no plans to eat. Just as soon as it opend it slammed shut.

Ahead of him, a blue screen appeared, showing Davros' disgusting face, contorted in a wretched smile.

"I dicided to feed you, as I don't need you too weak to speak when you find yourself ready," he mocked, "I can take that away."

"Ogrons? Really? And I thought I was stuck in the past." Jack spat back. The chamber lit with electric light, as a hissing started. In a blinding flash, with terrible pain tearing into him, Jack died again. He had a feeling that was going to be doing that a lot.

The lime green time rotor bobbed up and down rhythmically. The control room of this TARDIS was bathed in dark blue lights from the ceiling, illuminating it softly. The walls of the circular room were lined with shelves almost completely, leaving only room for a few doors.

Many were lined with book after book of all shape and size. Others had a variety of oddities: strange jars full of floating organs, bowls of herbs and berries, even a few skulls alien in nature. One shelf was dominated by dismantled electronics. Some were weapons, other robotic parts; one would see the torso of a Cyberman next to a few panels from a Mechinoid, below a systematically deconstructed Ood sphere. A few racks on one wall contained three guitars. One was a stark black and white color, that almost looked like a modified Yamaha SVG 800, but a strange grouping of antennae stuck from the top of the fret board. Below that was a bright red one of the same make, through it seemed to have been crossed with an amp, creating some musical monstrosity that was barely a guitar anymore. The final was comparatively boring; bright blue with red letters spelling "Arm The Homeless" – nothing sonic about it.

Ethereal music played from this control room, in time with the bobbing time rotor.

"On a cobweb, afternoon, in a room full of emptiness, by a freeway, I confess, I was lost in the pages…

Of a book, full of dead, reading how we'll die alone, and if we're good, we'll lay to rest, anywhere we want to go…" crooned The Time Lady.

"In you're house, I long to be, room by room, patiently, I wait for you there, like a stone, I wait for you there, alo-"

The shrill alarm sliced through the sounds of her guitar, causing the Corsair to switch the music abruptly off. She took her feet down off the console and stood, setting aside the instrument, this one a black Stratocaster, enscribed with the words "Soul Power".

She was young looking, but her liquid green eyes betrayed the age therein. She pushed her curtain of curly red hair from her freckled face, and smoothed down her outfit; her white, collared, buttoned-down shirt and red/green kilt had gotten bunched up uncomfortably by her unusual choice of seating. Her metal bracelets clinked together, revealing her ouroboros tattoo, as she yanked down a screen from above.

She had initially thought it was another Judoon ship approaching. She didn't know how many times she had to tell them she hadn't stolen that damn Vortex Manipulator, and she was hunting the man who had. On top of that, their officers had gotten caught in the middle of her and a group of Cybermen. They got themselves killed of course, and decided to blame her for that too. It was just like the Shadow Proclamation.

Her eyes went wide as she saw the face in the screen. Above a blazing read "Detected" message, was the mugshot of Jack Harkness.

"Bout' time I found you." She grinned. "Time to go break you out."

Her fingers were like lightning as she ticked away on her TARDIS console's keyboard. She pulled a lever, then a knob, then yanked on a large horizontal switch. The entire octagon console rotated around the green time rotor, and she smacked her hand on the red button in front of her. Audioslave and Jack Harkness; today was getting better and better.


	3. Deadline Run

_(Get ready for the weird Outlaw Gents and Shady Ladies)_

Jack couldn't say for sure how long he had been in that cell. It may have been a week – it may have been a month. Locked in that cell, he couldn't tell anymore.

He was always awoken by electricity, and put to sleep by death. It didn't take him long to realise that there was no avoiding it. It chained out of both the floor and the walls; there was nowhere to go.

As he came back to life, every time, Davros was there. His smug face looked at him from the screens, a distorted, disturbed smile on his face. He was enjoying this.

Davros thought he was breaking him. He obviously knew nothing about him. Jack could outlast him until he could escape. He was willing to live every waking moment in torment for that, for the satisfaction of making Davros lose.

Beyond that, he truly had no idea what Davros was talking about. The creator of the Daleks was under the mistaken impression that he knew what was happening to his creations. Heretics he called them. He didn't. For one, he hadn't seen the Doctor in a few years.

Secondarily, he didn't think the Doctor was responsible. He knew the Time Lord; he did his best to save people. If he had found a way to corrupt the Dalek programming, and perhaps change them, he would do it to all of them, and he would have done it a long time ago. The Daleks had caused more death than any species in the history of the universe. If he could end that he would just do it.

That begged the question; who was? It couldn't be a coincidence that he had suddenly been abducted from the Shadow Proclamation while investigating the break in at The Black Archive. This was connected somehow. He couldn't see how yet, but it had to do with this Great Intelligence Institute.

Every time, Davros asked him the same thing.

"Are you ready to let go of your foolish loyalty to the Doctor? Come now Captain Harkness, do you think he will come for you? Do you think he cares that you suffer for him?" Some days Jack didn't answer, mostly just to watch the old wretch's face twitch with irritation. Other times he came with a witty retort. It didn't actually matter; every time ended with lighting, death, pain and resurrection. Every time he awoke, he was left to wait, either until his next chat or until the Ogron's dumped more food on him.

This time was different however. When he awoke, Davros was still on screen. He had an evil grin plastered on his face.

"Oh goody, the Davros double-feature, lucky me," he complained, tapping his fingers on the screen, "how do I change the in-flight film, I don't want to watch this again."

"Joke all you want, Capitan. Let us see how much of your sense of humor you still have when we land," his garbled voice returned.

"Land?" Jack questioned. He didn't like where this was going.

"We are approximately one hour away from Skaro. This is your final chance, if you tell me what the Time Lord has done to my Daleks, I will let you go. Once we reach Skaro...you know by now that no prisoner ever leaves our home world." That was incredibly bad. He had to get out of here before they reached that planet. He didn't let his anxiety show through, keeping a smile on his face.

"I want the penthouse suite, if we're going to be staying on your credit." Jack winked. Davros' face twisted to an angry frown.

"Fine... choose the path of pain," he spat, and the image went dark.

The ceiling chuffed open above him, the pair of Ogrons glaring down at him. This was his last chance, and he knew it.

He felt weak. He hadn't eaten in days, partially out of protest, and partially disgust. That was not as much of an issue; he had died of starvation before. When he woke up his body just reset like always. It was how often he had died.

People always assumed that because he couldn't die permanently, it took nothing out of him. When spread apart it didn't. It just hurt. But he had died over and over, for days on end. He was physically exhausted, and mentally as well.

That didn't matter. He needed to try and escape. What was the worst that could really happen, they kill him? Been there, done that. One good jump and maybe he could grab onto the edge, and pull one of the Ogrons in.

Suddenly, one of the Ogrons shot its head to the side. It shouted something in its guttural language, the other looking and hefting up a gun off its back.

With a flash of red, the first was sent flying backward, smashing into the metal wall with an apeish holler. The second raised its gun, but a human figure appeared in a flash. Before the Ogron could fire, her fist smashed it in the jaw. She followed it with a crisp smack with the butt end of her laser gun, knocking it out. She spun around, her booted foot swiftly kicking the first in the head, finishing it off. The woman then dropped to her knees, looking down into the cell.

Jack was the first to admit that any woman within his current line of sight was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen – but if it was a contest, the one gazing down at him may have been the winner. He first noticed her mess of long, curly, red hair. It framed a cute, freckled face, with eyes green as grass. He couldn't help but notice the shapely figure, accentuated by her tight, formal shirt and a kilt that showed off her long, supple legs.

"Hello, Capitan Harkness," she said, shouldering her gun, "I've been trying to find you for a long time. Let's get you out of here, eh?" When she spoke, he noted her American accent, and she smiled in a disarming way that made one want to do anything she said. She reached her hand down, and he grabbed it. Bracing himself against the walls, she pulled him up and out. He stood, brushing himself off.

"Thank you. And to whom do I owe this rescue?" He shot her a wink. She returned with a smirk.

"You can call me the Corsair," she replied.

"Well, I've been looking for you too. Honestly, maybe for my whole life, without even knowing it."

"Right, " she replied sarcastically, ignoring his advances. "Now, let's get your manipulator and get back to my TARDIS. I heard them talking about it being in the lab. You're lucky, they haven't taken it apart yet. I don't know about you, but I don't want to be here when we land on Skaro."

She pulled a blaster pistol off her belt and handed it to him. He smiled. Finally, a rescuer who used a gun instead of a screwdriver. She pulled her gun off her back, and peeked out the single exit to this chamber. He watched her flick her gun off of stun, and he did the same. She glanced back and silently nodded. He returned the gesture.

"I see the way you're lookin' at me Harkness and I know your reputation. Don't even think about it. Five minutes with me would kill you."

"Well I'm death proof baby, so it sounds to me like we were made for each other." He tossed her another smile and a corny wink. He watched her green eyes scan him, and saw the ever so slight bite of the lower lip. She had thought about it. Now it was only a matter of time.

"Let's just get going, eh Jack-ass?" she shot back.

The Corsair slinked out, then broke into a run, dragging Jack along behind her until he could get his bearings and catch up. They ran down the rounded corridors, the flickering lights and cold design identical from one to the other.

"It won't take long before they realise you're gone," she said.

"It never does."

The Corsair rolled her eyes, something he figured she would be doing quite often with him, and skid to a halt at the end of the hall. A great shadow cast itself upon the pale walls. Jack pulled her backwards.

"I don't need your help," hissed the Corsair.

"Then I don't need yours. Give me your gun and we'll go our separate ways." Jack held out his hand.

"As if I would give this to you. I can trust you as much as I can kill you."

"Then why rescue me? Is it just for my dashing good lo-"

The Corsair suddenly covered his mouth as the shadow on the wall grew smaller and smaller, until, finally, a Dalek rolled into view. Its wicked eye stalk swivelled their way, its light pulsing hideously as it scanned the dimness. While it looked in the hall, Jack looked at the Corsair. They were shoulder to shoulder against the curve of the doorway, only just out of sight. Despite the cool nonchalance that she wore on her face, her chest was heaving just slightly, just enough to betray her. Jack gripped her hand even tighter, moving up to her wrist.

Ba-dum, ba-dum. Ba-dum, ba-dum.

Two hearts.

The Dalek passed by, and the Corsair flicked her emerald eyes to him. She looked down at his grip on her wrist, then up at him again. An understanding passed between them. And then, she whispered, "I'm saving you, Jack Harkness, because I know who it is you're looking for. I'm going to show you the way."

"ALERT! ALERT" The alarm suddenly screeched through, piercing the air. "PRISONER HAS ESCAPED. PRISONER HAS ESCAPED."

"Well, I was banking on a little more time," said the Corsair frankly.

"Yeah, but you weren't banking on me," replied Jack with a wink. "As an old friend would say - allons-y!"

With more gusto than brains, Jack charged down the hall, ignoring his aching muscels. He was starting to work out some of the fatigue now, but not enough for his liking. The Corsair kept up behind him, her footsteps in time with his.

He caught sight of another pair of shadows ahead, huminoid in shape, just before a pair of ugly Ogrons rounded the corner. Jack didn't hesitate, raising his pistol and firing.

While his pea-shooter wouldn't take out a Dalek, an Ogron was no issue. The green lasor flashed into it's chest, sending it flopping floorward. It's partner raised it's gun, aimed at him.

A red blast streaked over his shoulder, coming so close to his head he felt his hair singe, sending the Ogron flying into the wall, a quarter of it's body vaporized to ash. He nodded to his Time Lord patner in silent thanks, and they ran on.

The intercom buzzed to life, the metal halls echoing with Davros' waterlogged voice.

"Where do you think you will go Capitan Harkness? How far do you think you can get before we catch you and drag you screaming back to Skaro? There is no where we wont find you, no where you can hide from us. Do you think your precious Time Lord will protect you? Just as he has come for you now?"

"Is he always like this?" The Corsair asked in annoyance.

"Oh this is nothing, wait until he gets on a rant about us destroying his children," Jack rolled his eyes.

"No one gets away with murdering my children!" Davros yelled in fury, as if on cue, "find him! Bring him back in pieces if you have to!"

"You're good," the Corsair muttered.

"I don't think he knows you're here," Jack replied.

"He doesn't, and if I have my way, he won't," she answered. "This way!" she called, grabbing his wrist and yanking him to the right. They passed through another identical doorway, this one leading into a perfectly round chamber.

The bulk of this room was filled with tables and gurneys. He noted all kinds of strange experiments; one table held a human brain in a jar, glass tubes of black mush sticking from the flesh. On another sat peices of a Dalek, the round head-case and eye stalk covered in some strange red goo that pulsed with malficarious light.

On the gurneys, he spotted all sorts of alien species; Sontarans, Zocci, Raxacoricofallapatorians, even a Judoon – all in various states of dissection. Some had Dalek metal added to their limbs, others had stalks protruding from their heads or guns from their hands. Next to the Sontaran sat a table, loaded with a pile of small metal spiders, chittering and clambering over one and other in constant movement.

Jack spotted his things across the room; his clothing, gun and the all-important Vortex Manipulater sat on a table, untouched. Relief flooded him, but it was short-lived.

The middle of the room, between he and his things, sat a massive pyramid, topped with a globe. He could see the squishy, fleshy, squid creature inside, its singular yellow eye falling on him, tentacles wiggling in glee.

All the Daleks looked like this out of their armor, but it's wet, insane laughter that chilled the bones made Jack recognize this one. He had thought it was dead, but he had thought the same of Davros, so how could he be surprised?

"It's good to see you still looking so... handsome, Dalek Caan…"


	4. Prophecy of a Madman

_(Are you ready for what me and BannerFanner have cooked up in the kitchen of horrors? Eat up Outlaw Gentlemen and Shady Ladies. The next course is up soon.)_

Dalek Caan's wet cackles reverberated through the hall.

"Jaack! Jaaack is baaaaaaaack!" it squealed. "And who is his friend? "

"That's none of your business," snipped the Corsair, folding her arms. She turned to Jack. "So, this spitball is Caan, eh? _This_ is the mad Dalek?"

Caan giggled loudly. "Caan isn't mad. I'm quite happy, in fact!"

"Come on, let's get out of here," growled Jack, grabbing the Corsair's hand. He began dragging her past, but she dug her heels into the floor and shook him off, looking Caan square in his pus-filled eye.

"She will show him the planet," Caan mused, sounding almost lucid for just a moment. Then, in a fraction of a second, Caan whipped out a tentacle and yanked the Corsair by the wrist, pulling her in until she was just an inch from its boiled skin. "She wants to do good, but she can't make up for her own transgressions! It's dead is what Caan said. Dead! No matter how far back she goes, she won't find it. It's gone! It's GOOOONE."

The Corsair threw the tentacle off of her and pointed her rifle at him, the barrel glowing an angry red. Caan screamed pathetically, laughter breaking in between breaths.

"Kill me," it cried. "You cannot stop the Daleks. You cannot stop the GREAT OLD ONE!"

The Corsair was intensely disturbed, a dark shadow crossing over her. She moved her finger to the trigger.

Suddenly, Jack's hand was there. He laid it on top of the gun and pushed it down. She did not resist as much as he expected her to, yet still her green orbs pierced him, and narrowed.

Jack turned his attention to the insane Dalek instead.

"I was there, at the Crucible, I saw what you did. You betrayed Davros, and your entire race. You engineered their destruction. Why are you here? Why hasn't Davros killed you?" Jack knew how Davros handled his rogue children; they were exterminated.

"Davros is feeble of mind and body. He does not see the patterns, how the strands weave themselves, In and around and through. It is me he needs to see. Me!" Caan burbled gleefully.

"He thinks you can fix the Heretics?" the Corsair questioned.

"I cannot fix what is not broken," Caan cooed. "They still feel the sweet pull of genocide, they just feel it for another. To kill is to be a Dalek, they only no longer kill for genocide's father." A chilling cackle followed, its tentacle worming its way to Jack now.

"He has not seen what we have. Davros has not stared into the abyss and had it stare into him – had the succulent light fill his body with its warmth and its cold dark of nothing and everything, at once!"

"We? You and I are nothing alike." Jack recoiled as Caan's appendage reached for him.

"Aren't we? Have you not seen time as I have? You are created from it, it's spawn meant to live and die and live and die. I have seen it's face, its barbarous beauty. Such ecstasy." The Dalek's voice cracked with joy. It was the Time Vortex that had broken his mind, but the same vortex had made Jack immortal. It made him sick to admit that Caan was right.

"Why are we standing here?! We need to go!" the Corsair shouted, tugging on Jack's arm. He was rooted in place. Something told him to stay.

Caan's eye darted to the Corsair, then back to Jack, blinking slowly. Another moment of sanity fell upon it as it spoke.

"The uniter of heresys has come. He seeks destruction but will cause the great return instead. One will become warrior while another becomes guardian, blood spilled for blood – so brilliant yet so blind."

"Who…who are you talking about?" Jack asked. A mad laugh was what met him.

"He cannot see his flaw. He cannot see his fatal error. Only I can see! I can see it all! Not even you can! Blind! Blind! BLIND!"  
Jack looked around, but the Corsair had left him. He swallowed a panicked breath and began to back away. Caan continued to scream, and as his voice echoed through the room, Davros' creations stirred. Their limbs shuddered and jerked into locomotion, standing unevenly on shaky legs.

Their voices were their own, but the words all too familiar to have come from their minds.  
"EXTERMINATE!"

"This way!" cried the Corsair leaping back into view, her arms full of their possessions. "Come on already!"

She grabbed Jack by the sleeve and tossed him the vortex manipulator, bringing out her own weapon again as they ran. He prodded his fingers on the buttons of the braclet, a sharp beep his only answer.

"They've done something to it! It's not working!" He shouted.

"It doesn't matter, just run you idiot!" The Corsair yelled, pulling him away just in the nick of time, the dissected Sontaran's shot splattering where he had just been.

Suddenly, a scorching beam shot past them, as the very first Dalek rounded the corner of the hall and fired it's weapon. Jack immediately fell back behind the Corsair, knowing that if he was shot he would immediately come back. Even if this woman really was a Time Lord, who knew how many regenerations she had left? And besides, knowing how it affected the Doctor he never wanted to put anyone else through that if he could help it.

The Corsair glanced back at him curiously but didn't address it. Jack fired back over his shoulder but all he did was slow the Daleks down a little.

"My TARDIS is down here...I think!"

"You think?!" exclaimed Jack.

"Well, my TARDIS actually camouflages sometimes, as novel a concept as that might sound having travelled with the Doctor," she bit back. "There! That little shimmer in the air. That column!" She skid to a halt. Jack slammed into her, but before he could even register what she meant a sudden white-hot pain wracked his body. He collapsed into her arms, convulsing. The Dalek that had shot him was gaining, its gun raising to the Corsair. She raised her own weapon and started backing up, all while struggling to keep Jack off the ground. He was pulling her down.

"That wasn't very nice," she chastised the Dalek. "I suppose you'll be wanting to kill me next, huh? Well, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but when you've backed a girl with a gun into a corner...make sure that corner's not her TARDIS."

And with that, and a final step backwards, the Corsair and Jack disappeared. A few moments later a harsh wheezing sound filled the halls, drowning out the screams of EXTERMINATE and the pointless blasts of lasers.

They dematerialised.

* * *

Jack awoke groggily, opening his bleary eyes. As his vision cleared, he expected to see the harsh metal of the Dalek mothership and the cold lights. Half of him expected to see Davros' smug face staring down at him, or the floor of his now all-too-familiar cell.

Instead he was greeted by the ever-moving, lime green, time router of what could only be a Tardis. This Tardis was far different than the one he was familiar with. This one was lined with shelves all stacked with books, jars, electronics and instruments. It was obvious that his new Time Lord friend was a hoarder; lovely.

Said friend, was standing at her console, ticking away at a keyboard, her green eyes falling on him as he sat up. She picked up his things; cloths and Vortex Manipulator, and tossed him over to him.

"Get dressed," she ordered, "we're landing soon."

"Usually women tell me to take my clothes off." He smirked, to a glare in return.

"I reprogrammed the Manipulator, it should work now," she answered, ignoring his comment. He started pulling on his clothing, right over the Dalek slave rags. He figured getting completely naked would be too much for her to handle.

She walked away from the console, toward him, pushing her flaming hair out of her face.

"I almost didn't believe you when you said you can't die..." she started.

He shrugged. "Everybody says that."

"You took that shot from that Dalek, and you're still alive. That shouldn't be possible," she continued.

"And yet, here I am. You lucky dog," he kidded.

"That shot should have hit me..." she trailed uncomfortably.

"I figured it was better if I took it," he started seriously. "Getting shot by one of them feels like getting stabbed with a flamethrower but... well, I'm still here. You... you're too sexy to die."

She tried to give him another evil look, but instead busted out laughing.

"Okay, that one I liked," she complemented between laughs.

"Well, I'll tell you what…" he began, pulling on his suspenders.

"Don't push it." She smiled sweetly, with an edge to her voice. Sweet with the sour; she wasn't dissuading him.

"All right, so fine then, let's talk business." He nodded. "While I appreciate you saving me, I would like to know why. I know it's not just because I make good arm candy."

"Our enemy is the same. You and I are looking for the same man," The Corsair answered cryptically.

"The man in charge of The Great Intelligence Institute."

"There is no Institute, just a man, and that is his chosen name," she explained.

"That's arrogant." What sort of person walked around calling themselves The Great Intelligence? Sounded like someone was painfully insecure.

"It is, unfortunately, correct." The Corsair turned her back to him, flipping a few switches on her console, before spinning the entire device with a leaver. "Why are you looking for him?"

"He broke into Unit's Black Archive, and stole a Vortex Manipulator."

She smacked her palm on the console. "Damn it! I hoped I would get to you before that so we could prevent it. If the Judoon hadn't mucked it all up by thinking it was me who took it, I would've made it. Now it's too late." She turned back around, rubbing her eyes. "Ah, I have to take these out, I can't do this anymore."

She poked at her eyes, pulling out a pair of contact lenses, placing them on the console in a small case.

"Sonic contacts," she explained. "I kinda wanted you to think I was navigating the Dalek capital ship without a map, but they're bloody uncomfortable." Just when he thought he had finally met a Time Lord who didn't do sonic.

"Why not just go with glasses?" Jack asked.

"No one takes a Time Lady seriously if she's wearing sonic glasses," she returned with a derisive snort.

"So, who is this guy? He a Time Lord too?" Jack asked, back on the subject.

She shook her head. "No, he's something else. Something entirely different."

"What?" He had seen all manner to things in the company of both the Doctor and Torchwood.

The Corsair's TARDIS clunked loudly and shook.

"We've landed. It's easier if I just show you."

He followed her to the front doors, and she opened them.

The planet outside was a desolate wasteland of silver/grey snow. A cold wind blew across the icy plains, sending swirls of flakes floating through the air. Snow covered mountains sat lonely in the distance, forgotten in the constant storm.

One single feature loomed across the snow blasted field. The metal building was a tall tower, made entirely of disks, standing sentinel in the cold. It appeared nearly windowless, but for one single cycloptic "eye" near the top. Its shape sent a chill up his spine.

"Welcom to Kallamorvis, Jack – the Dalek prison planet for Time Lords."


	5. Death-Proof, Baby

The planet was grey, the sky was grey, the air...well, the air was also grey, somehow. Every breath Jack took was tight as though the atmosphere contained only the barest possible amount of oxygen to keep a Time Lord - or an unkillable humanoid, like himself - clinging on to life. Before them loomed a great and dark tower, which - although intimidating and frightening - had been ravaged by time.

"Why didn't you take us back earlier?" asked Jack. "No one's been here for millennia."

"I can't go back earlier," she replied. "This planet is now a temporal oddity. It is fixed in this time, no matter what. This is all that ever will exist or ever has here. The Great Intelligence has destroyed this timeline forever."

"Then why show me?"

She bowed her head slightly. "The Great Intelligence is a monster. It morphs and grows, it evolves depending on its needs and means. But, like all creatures, it had to come from somewhere. He may be from another universe, or a different dimension. Perhaps... he started here, or this was just the first place he could manfest."

"Now he has a vendetta against the Time Lords?"

"You could say he has a vendetta against time itself." The Corsair took his hand slowly, looking him square in the eyes as she did so. "Jack, he is going to do to all of existence what he's done here. We can't just rely on the Doctor, and I can't stop him alone."

Jack was sober for once, all jokes and banter dying on his tongue. "Where do we start?"

The Corsair smiled.

"I'm glad you asked."

"By the way, you're still holding my hand." Jack smirked.

The Corsair blushed, immediately dropping it and brushing back her hair. "I knew that..."

"This way," she motioned, and started walking. He followed close behind, pulling his overcoat tightly around him. Even still, the relentless wind cut him like a knife. How his new friend was alright, wearing a kilt in this weather, he would never know. He understood looking good but that was pushing it.

It took them around an hour to finally reach the foot of the prison from across the tundra. Standing at its ominous base, he couldn't help but crane his head up. The single window at the top was obscured by snow and mist, giving it the illusion of stretching up forever.

The single oval door was nearly forty feet tall as far as he could tell, and was rusted into utter oblivion. He noted the scorched hole in the center, where a break out had occurred in the distant past. He saw the Dalek guns sticking from the walls, along with eye stalks. He imagined this was to kill escapees. He half expected them to come to life and start shooting. Thankfully they didn't. He followed the Corsair through the doors and into the darkened building.

He almost drew his gun as he saw the long, salt-shaker shaped shadow cast by the open door, but as soon as he saw the state of the creature, he relaxed. Its head was a blown mass of warped metal, its eye stalk laying twisted on the ground. Nearby sat another, its torso ripped open like a tin can, all that remained of the long-dead squid creature within was black mush.

More dead Daleks lay scattered around the main floor, just as wrecked as those who came before them. Obviously, the imprisoned Time Lords were not merciful when they finally made their dash for freedom.

Ever uncreative, the inner prison was a simple tower, through every square inch of wall space was used. From this bottom floor, to wutheringly high ceiling some forty-five meters up, were cells. Some were standard bars, like a conventional jail. Others were glass boxs, and still more looked like they had no door at all, though he guessed it was a forcefield. He spotted tubes sticking from the walls, just like his cell aboard the Dalek mothership. Much to his discomfort, he even saw chains connected to manicals hanging from the walls, where they would just leave some prisoners dangling.

Most of the cells didn't even have a floor outside the door; he guessed the eighty-foot drop was quite the escape deterrent. A pair of stairs snaked around the tower walls, creating a helix to the top. At its apex was a single, metal hatch.

"What... what happened here?" He could not fathom the amount of torment that had gone on in this frigid place. The way his voice echoed made him imagine the screams, a cold feeling resting in his gut.

"The information on this place was meagre before the destruction of Gallifrey, and it is now almost non-existent. It was once a prison for Time Lords. The Daleks would torture and interrogate them, and conduct wretched experiments on their regenerative capabilities. That is…until he came."

"The Great Intelligence?" Jack asked.

"The Doctor. It was the war- he came here, and freed the trapped Time Lords. That was the day the Daleks named him. They say, a blinding blizzard came with him, of ice and snow and wind. That was the day he became The Oncoming Storm. This is the wreckage he left behind."

"What does he have to do with The Great Intelligence being here?" It always seemed like The Doctor was at the root of all of everything.

"Nothing. Not as far as I know. I'm making a point," she responded.

"Which is?" he asked impatiently.

"This place had a history once. Now it doesn't. Here, walk with me." She motioned to the steps.

Jack followed as they began the climb.

"The theories on who, or even what, The Great Intellegence is are varied. One legend says in one universe, it...or, now, he...was a Great Old One, and in another he was an immortal human soul, unable or unwilling to just... die." She shuffed her hair out of her face, obviously uncomfortable with the current topic.

"The Ice Warriors say The Great Intelligence is a God, long forgotten. The Headless Monks believe he is what is left when a God dies. The Daleks prefer to call him "The Dark Watcher," she quoted with disdain in her voice, "and he was born by the pain and horrors that once happened here, or the collection of Time Lords whose souls were snuffed out. I don't know which is true. And I don't particularly care." She glanced back at him, her green orbs serious. Was it a hint of fear under that determination? Or just concern?

"What I do know is they say he began as a feeling, that feeling that makes your hair stand on end. That inherent knowledge that defies logic, but that screams at you in your gut that something is wrong. That feeling that someone is watching you, even when you're alone," she stopped their trek, turning full around, "and that whatever is doing this, without a doubt, has bad intentions."

"He is obviously much more than that now," Jack replied, and they continued upwards.

"It is said travelers, scrappers, and raiders would occasionally land here, trying to strike it rich. They could feel some sort of threat, but..." she waved her hand at the cells, "but look at this place. That something, that feeling, would force itself on them. It wanted to feel as they do, see what they had seen. It was nearly unnoticeable. At first." As Jack looked around, he too could not help but feel the ghost of that feeling. It was probably in his head but it still left him unnerved.

"Eventually, feelings became thoughts, and those thoughts tried to gather more, the thoughts of others. Have you met the scrappers and raiders of the galaxy Jack?"

He nodded. "Yes, interstellar trash." That was coming from him; he was no Boy Scout.

"Imagine having the first thoughts you remember being violence, and fear and hate. In a place born by violence and fear and hate."

"I'm starting to see where this is going..." he returned.

"Those thoughts became a consciousness without a body. Two guesses what it dicided it wanted," she snorted.

"So... the body he has now isn't his," Jack reasoned.

"No, it isn't, but it didn't get the body right away," she shook her head. "The best it could do was piggyback on someone else. That was how it got off of here. And it did it again, and again, and again, and again, bouncing from world to world, galaxy to galaxy." She stopped again glancing over the edge of the stairs, into the abyss below. They had almost reached the top.

"It absobed thoughts and feelings of those around it, then full memories. After awhile it found it could manipulate people, reflect back what they wanted deep down, and get them to do what it wanted. It did this for untold eons, until it got what it finally wanted."

"It possessed someone?" Jack breathed. The begain climbing again.

"A doctor no less. He poured his hate into the bodyless force, and it poured itself into him, erasing him utterly. He has since devoured the minds of thousands, if not millions."

"Why hasn't The Doctor stopped him?" He was good at fouling up evil plots. This was unlike him.

"He thought he did," she shrugged.

They were silent as they ascended the final steps, and entered a round cold room where the furthermost wall looked as though it had been kicked out of place by a massive boot. The Corsair's auburn locks tangled in the wind as she stared out across the horizon. This was no window as it looked from below; it was a scar of war.

"I hear this was Davros' favourite room. Whenever he visited they would bring the Time Lords up here and torture them in front of him like some sort of show." She sighed. "Or maybe none of that ever happened at all. None of it ever existed or ever will exist. But it's where we begin."

"What do we do?"

"Your Vortex Manipulator, " said the Corsair, turning around to face him. "We need it. The TARDIS is too conspicuous. He can smell it coming from millennia away."

"That's why you saved me. You needed my tech," said Jack, trying not to let the disappointment ebb into his voice.

The Corsair stepped closer. "I don't just need your tech. I need a friend. I need backup. I need the famous, un-killable, incomparable Captain Jack Harkness. The Doctor can't do this alone. He doesn't know it yet, but he can't. And he can't die. Not this one."

"What are you saying here?" he asked confused. Was this The Doctor's final life? He didn't think so.

"I know the stakes. This is the only Doctor who can do this the way that it needs to be done. Any other and..." she trailed.

"You can't know that..." The Doctor was amazing, every version of him. If he had faith in anyone, it was him.

She took a breath, turning around. Her head was down, and her hand went to her temples, the relentless stress obvious.

"Yes I do..." she breathed, "I've already seen it."

"Wait just a minuite, sister!" Jack shouted, "you didn't tell me that. You and I both know how this works, fore-knowledge... that's almost unchangeable. If you do it creates a hell of a paradox or..."

She raised her hand up, silencing him. She turned around. Her eyes were filled with tears, streaming down her pretty face.

"Remember how I said he may not be from this universe? I know that because... I'm not."

"Wait... what?" He was shocked. That was nearly impossible.

"This universe's Corsair... is dead. I dodged that in my universe, and alot if her other deaths but I was around for The Great Intelligence rising up. You don't understand... he destroyed everything."

"I'm sorry... I didn't"

"So I got out, right at the end! Right before it all collapsed on itself!" She shouted bitterly. "And that universe I found was fine. Until he rose up! Guess what happened! Again!"

"How... many times have you done this..." he asked. He could almost feel her hear break.

"More than you can count. That's why I don't know what The Great Intelligence is. I don't know if he travels from Universe to Universe, or if he independently appears in each but... I know how it ends."

"If thats the case..."

But this one... this universe is diffrent..." she wiped her tears away, regaining her composure as best she could.

"How?"

"You. In every other one, you died on that space station, and The Doctor regenerated, blowing it to peices, killing the Daleks. Here... you had the Bad Wolf entity and... you. He still regenerated but... I've never seen you before. You're a true anomaly, Jack. Unkillable, unstoppable, immortal. Just... just like him."

"You think...what? I'm the key to this?"he asked. He may be extraordinarily odd but he wasn't some kind of chosen one. He wasn't a hero.

"I do. The Doctor is going to die. Again. Soon. His successor is brilliant, tough, strong... you know... same as the others. But he's not this one. The old Scottsman... with eyes that look into the soul and determination that is unmatched. We need THIS one."

"You think I can keep him alive." Jack confirmed.

"I don't think you can, I know you can..." she moved towards him; her nose was an inch from his, maybe less. 'Death-proof, baby' right?" She quoted. Her hand fell into his, and her lips parted. He closed his eyes and leaned forward...

"Come on, Harkness, it's not going to be that easy," came her sultry whisper in his ear. He felt her hand pull away, leaving a peice of paper behind.

"Maybe... I'll think about it... after you've saved The Doctor," she whispered.

"You are absolutely using your sex appeal against me," he whispered back.

She jumped back, giving him a light shove, laughing. As he looked at her, he could still see the tear down her face, nearly hidden by her humor. He knew what she was doing, and he let her have it.

"The second he's safe, I'll be knocking on your door," he smirked.

"We'll see, Mr. Overconfidence." She shot him one last wink, before spinning back down the steps, disappearing below.

Alone at last, Jack looked down at the paper in his hand. It was a series of numbers, coordinates, followed by an adress- 13 Paternoster Row."

"I'm not overconfident babe, I'm Jack Harkness," he whispered to the long-gone Corsair clicking away at the buttons on his manipulator. He half expected her to come back up those stairs, a sarcastic quip on her lips. When she didn't, he finished.

Jack shook his head, smirking. "Time Lords," before dissappearing into a flash of static white.

 _(Author's Note: and thus ends The Harkness Files, catching us up with the final chapter of A Night in Killcrest Manner. I hope that you out there have enjoyed this creation between BannerFanner and I. We certainly enjoyed writing it. Just working with characters as fun as Jack and The Corsair was fun. I must admit that without my partner-in-crime, I never would have pulled off such an amazing character. I may have designed her, but Banner brought her to life far better than I could. She deserves so many props here. Give her some love guys, it may be on my profile but this is as much hers as it is mine. I hope I will see each of you again next year, for the next full installment, The Rise of Morbious. It's a doozy. See you soon Outlaw Gents and Shady Ladies)_


End file.
